


If the Trash Can's a-Rockin’… (or, H is definitely not for Happy)

by tres_mechante



Category: Sesame Street (TV)
Genre: Masturbation, Masturbation Interruptus, Merry Month of Masturbation Challenge, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-05
Updated: 2013-05-05
Packaged: 2017-12-10 10:43:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/785141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tres_mechante/pseuds/tres_mechante
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You’d be grouchy, too, if your fur was green but your balls were blue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If the Trash Can's a-Rockin’… (or, H is definitely not for Happy)

**Author's Note:**

> **Additional Warnings:** attempted masturbation, sexual frustration, innuendo, fetishization of trash, general perversion of beloved a children's tv character
> 
> References previous Sesame Street story: You're the One (or, P is for Pervert) [ http://archiveofourown.org/works/785224 ], but you don't have to read that one. Unless you want to, of course.

Oscar slammed the lid of his trash can and stood in the middle of his room. After what he'd just overheard – again! – he needed… _something_. Black and yellow in the far corner caught his eye. Bananas are the perfect thing, he thinks, especially the squishy ones. He had planned to make banana muffins, but after overhearing Bert and Ernie play with Rubber Ducky, well, a Grouch could only take so much.

One of these days he'd have to tell them to shut their bathroom window when they wanted to 'get clean'. One of these days, but not just yet, he chuckled to himself as he worked to prepare his little love nest. Yes, indeed, things had certainly gotten more interesting since they'd moved out of that dinky – heh, dinkie, dink heh-heh-heh – that dinky little basement apartment and into the apartment upstairs.

He added a bag of shredded paper to the box before reaching into his closet for a towel – _the_ towel, the one that had 'accidentally' fallen from the bathroom window just behind his trash can. The towel that smelled like a couple of naughty roommates and a rubber duck…oh yeah…

Oscar sprawled facedown across his customized bed of trash, groaning as the rancid smells and sound rustling papers surrounded him. He humped the squishy, stinky mound, replaying in his head the sounds of fun from the apartment above his trash can. It always started with Ernie singing that stupid song and it never took long before Bert stormed in and –

"Hey, Oscar!"

The sudden shout and banging on his can caused Oscar to jerk up and fall on the floor. He lay there, stunned by the interruption. He thought about staying quiet, maybe whoever was bothering him would go away.

He climbed back into his nest of ick and tried a few experimental humps against a particularly squishy mess, but –

"Hey, Oscar, are you there?"

Crap. Big Bird. Oscar groaned. The Yellow Menace was not going to go away.

He climbed up to the entrance of his trash can and flung open the lid. "What?" he snarled.

"Oh, hi, Oscar!" Big Bird all but chirped. "You're up!"

"Well, I was up," muttered Oscar. "What do you want?"

"Me and Snuffy were going for ice cream and thought maybe you'd like to come?"

"I would love to come," said Oscar under his breath. Aloud he asked, "Have I ever gone for ice cream with you or your imaginary friend?" He looked around in an exaggerated fashion, silently emphasizing that, so far, Big Bird was the only one to see this Snuffle-puss thing.

"Nope," answered Big Bird, completely ignoring the crack about Snuffy not being real. "But it's such a nice day we figured you'd really like to come with us today."

Oscar thought about that for a moment; there were so many responses to that statement but Big Bird wouldn't get any of them, so it wouldn't be worth the effort if he couldn't shock the big goof.

"No. I don't want ice cream and I don't want to go out with you and your invisible friend. Now scram – I'm busy!"

Oscar ducked down and slammed the lid shut.

There was a knock at the lid. "Oscar? Hey, Oscar?"

"I'm busy! Go! Away!"

After a few more knocks on the lid, silence reigned. Finally. He didn't know why the Big Yellow Feather-duster was so determined to be his friend. He'd be flattered by the attention if that attention didn't keep interrupting more pleasurable activities.

He fell face-first into his abandoned nest of pleasure and groaned at the feeling of squishy, smelly, crumbly things surrounding cock. He gave a few experimental thrusts, still a bit high on having been totally rude, and that lovely feeling came rushing back. Oh yeah, he could do this. He thrust against the trash, breathed in the glorious fetid odors and felt himself rushing to the edge of the cliff. He just needed one more thing, just one little push to go over the edge.

Oscar reached for the towel – _the_ towel – turning his head to look when he couldn't find it. He froze in shock, appalled at what he saw.

Slimey, his beloved pet worm Slimey, sat a short distance away on the towel – _the_ towel. He'd managed maneuver the material into a little nest and was watching Oscar with an avid, curious expression. An expression that reminded him a little too much of a certain Big Yellow Pest.

This was not fair, groaned the Grouch in frustration and no small amount of despair. There were some lines Oscar refused to cross, and getting off while his worm watched was one of them.

Oscar flopped back down, face planted firmly into a particularly squishy pile of bananas, but not even the wonderfully enticing stench could tempt him back towards pleasure.

He tilted his head to peek at his pet. "I don't suppose you'd like to go for ice cream with Big Bird and his friend, would you?"

Slimey just sat on the towel and continued to stare at him. 

Oscar couldn't shake the feeling that the worm was laughing at him.

**\---fin---**

**Author's Note:**

> I have no explanation for this.


End file.
